


These Little Wonders, These Twists and Turns of Fate

by LadyChi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:43:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyChi/pseuds/LadyChi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments from the lives of Steve and Darcy. Has nothing to do with my "Old Jazz Record" series. More romantic and character-centered than plot centered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Erotica

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to look me up on tumblr: chi-stories.tumblr.com!
> 
> Title is from a Matchbox Twenty song. I'm a child of the '90s, okay? Don't judge!

Steve’s sketchbook is on the floor when Darcy walks in, spread open to a page with scribbles and half-completed doodles of hands and feet. Steve is laid out just as haphazardly on her bed, one arm flung over his eyes. He’s breathing deeply and... yes. Snoring.  
  
Darcy looks down at the tabloid in her hands, with a headline that screams Captain America’s Sexy Daytime Look: Steve Rogers!. She’s more than half-tempted to pull out her phone and take a picture for the magazines. Look, she’d say, he’s not perfect.  
  
But he’s better because he’s not. He’s better because he’s hyper-alert and hyper-responsible and sarcastic and dry and not necessarily the squared-away Boy Scout everyone thinks he would be in the sack and... he’s hers.  
  
“I can feel you over there,” Steve says, not moving, “ _thinking_ at me.”  
  
“Could you feel my lusty, lusty thoughts?” Darcy asks, unbuttoning her cardigan. “Did you get a sense of what I want to do to you, Cap?”  
  
“Oh God, you’re in _this_ mood,” Steve says, but he’s grinning when he says it. “I don’t know if I can keep up with you in this mood today. You know I just fought off like... eight radioactive octopus... things.”    
  
“Mmhmm,” Darcy says, unbuttoning her classy white shirt and hopping on the bed, making Steve bounce. “I was watching you on the news.”  
  
“Ah. So you know all about that, then.”  
  
“I know all about the parts in your report,” Darcy says, and very quickly, her pants are history and she’s straddling Steve in nothing but her bra and panties. “And all the parts on the news. But I don’t know everything that happened, obviously.”  
  
“I could, ah... tell you about it.”  
  
Darcy’s hands are insistently pulling at Steve’s t-shirt. “You could do that. I’ll just be over here, fucking you senseless while you talk, okay?”  
  
“Uh. There used to be blood in my brain, I’m almost sure of it.”  
  
Darcy grins and leans down and kisses him and suddenly his hands on her. When Steve touches her, she can feel the boy he used to be, sometimes. He’s a little cautious, a lot respectful and then there’s always this moment where she can feel him shove all of that to one side and then... whoa boy.  
  
That moment comes as Steve flips her over, and suddenly she’s covered by two hundred pounds of rock-solid man, and it’s enough to make her shudder. His mouth and his hands, they’re all over her, which is good, because hers all over him. They quickly work his boxers off, and he goes to town on her breasts. They aren’t sensitive like this with anyone else, but Steve’s got a magic touch that makes her shake and sweat.  
  
Foreplay’s good. It’s always good. But the main event starts off with a bang when he slides inside of her and it feels right in a way it rarely does, even with Steve. It’s a little too tight, it’s a little painful, but she likes it that way. Steve knows that, cause he’s grinning like a fucking Jack-O-Lantern when her hands reach for the bedrails and he’s pounding inside of her. And then she’s saying the kind of stupid crap she’s glad Steve’s the only one who hears now like, _“Come on, Jesus, Steve, harder...”_  
  
And it’s fast and beautiful and the world kind of goes white for a minute when Steve finds that spot deep inside of her and he comes inside of her with a profanity on his lips... then it’s over and Steve’s panting and she feels gloriously worn and sore, and Steve rolls to the side and she fingers his dogtags while they both come down from the high of being together, of it being so good.  
  
They’re silent for a long moment.  
  
“You scared me,” Darcy says, finally, while everything settles inside of her and she’s reassured some part of herself that she didn’t realize, exactly, was running scared.  “Today. When I saw the footage.”  
  
“I uh... haven’t got a chance to see any of it.”  
  
“I saw you go under the water... and then... I didn’t see you come back. And I knew you were fine, because I knew they would call me if something wasn’t... you know, fine. But I just thought... I just thought I hate the thought of.... oh God, I can’t believe I’m saying this. I hate the thought of losing you.”  
  
Steve rolls over and presses a kiss to her stomach, the swell of her breast, her neck, and her mouth, one after the other. “I don’t want to scare you.”  
  
“But you can’t stop. I know that. I know that people need you.” Darcy closes her eyes. “I’ve just got to figure out a way to handle this.”  
  
Steve tucks her in close. “I liked the way we handled it just now.”  
  
“Yes.” Darcy laughs. “Apparently sheer terror can be exorcised with vigorous sex. Note to self.”  
  
Steve’s looking at her kind of funny -- this expression on his face like he wants to say something, like he wants to ask her something.  
  
“Spit it out, honey,” Darcy says, rolling over onto her back.  
  
“Can I, uh... I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Steve clears his throat. “Can I draw you?”  
  
Darcy blinks. “...Now?”  
  
“Yes. I remember things better, after I draw them. And the way that you look right now... I don’t ever want to forget that.”  
  
“Sure, I... what do I do?”  
  
Steve flings himself off the bed in a move that makes Darcy feel like maybe her life’s a video game. “Just... lay there. And look at me like that.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
Steve shrugs. “You know, that look you give me right after, when it’s really good, with your eyes-half closed and your mouth... Christ, just like that.”  
  
Then he’s moving her hands, moving the sheet. Arranging her so she’s got her head on her arm, her hand just so, across her pelvis, and the sheet clings to the bottom half of her legs, an afterthought of modesty.     
  
“You should talk to me while you do this,” Darcy says, after he’s been sketching for a while, “so that I don’t fall asleep on you.” And so that you drawing me naked doesn’t totally freak me out.  
  
“What do you want to talk about?” His pencil moves furiously, and Darcy longs for a look.  
  
Darcy fights the urge to shrug. “Anything you want to talk about.”  
  
There’s a long moment, then -- “I want to get a dog.”  
  
“You do?” Darcy smiles. “That’s totally cool, Steve.”  
  
“When, uh... when I was growing up, we couldn’t have them. First cause we didn’t have any money, you know. And I was allergic to them.  And then because the orphanage had enough mouths to feed. And then again because Bucky and I didn’t have any money. And then there was this, uh... dog. In Germany. One of the guys rescued it, and I got attached. Never had been around one before.”  
  
“You’re Captain America. If you want a dog, you should totally get a dog.” Darcy nods, and Steve coughs pointedly and she tries not to feel like she just cursed in church, and carefully puts herself back in position. “What kind were you thinking?”  
  
“Hans was a bulldog,” Steve says. “I thought maybe I’d uh... rescue one of those. Since that’s what I have experience with. But I... I wanted to run it by you, first.”  
  
“Steve, you know you don’t have to have my permission to adopt a dog, right?”  
  
The pencil stops moving for a second. “No, I know. But... you want to know what scares me?”  
  
Darcy blinks. “Sure.”  
  
“When I look in the future, you know. Not just tomorrow, or the next day, or the next week. When I think about ten years from now, I think about you. So it’s not really about permission, Darcy. It’s about... asking you if... if that’s how you’re thinking, too. Because it wouldn’t be just me. It would be you and me. Someday. Or possibly sooner.”  
  
It is physically painful to try and stop herself from playing with the sheets. To make herself look at him.  
  
“Yeah, that’s... that’s kind of what I’ve been thinking lately, too.”  
  
Steve grins, and his pencil starts moving again, and there’s just the sound of scratching, and Darcy’s breathing and the white noise of the city in the background.  
  
He shows her the picture, when she wakes up in the morning. It’s blatantly erotic, sure -- but the love in her eyes and her self-satisfied grin, the affection with which he drew her -- that’s obvious, too. Not to mention, her tits look _amazing_.


	2. Bend, Don't Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy isn’t worried. She doesn’t know enough to be worried, this time. She won’t be expecting him home for days -- he told her this would be a long one. But Steve is. Steve is seriously fucking worried. He’s never bled like this before. He’s never had to struggle like this before. He hauls himself across the frozen ground, hand over hand.

Darcy isn’t worried. She doesn’t know enough to be worried, this time. She won’t be expecting him home for days -- he told her this would be a long one. But Steve is. Steve is seriously fucking worried. He’s never bled like this before. He’s never had to struggle like this before. He hauls himself across the frozen ground, hand over hand. He’s all alone and it’s all his fault. He can hear Bucky’s voice in his head, chewing him out.  
  
 _They made you super but they must have made you **stupid as fuck** , man. You don’t fucking walk into a bad situation without your team, asswipe._   
  
“I know, I know,” Steve mutters to himself, “haven’t you got anything encouraging to say, for once?”  
  
 _What do you want me to say? Actions have consequences, dude, and you’re never going to get to see that sweet little dame you’ve got waiting for you at home because you let your ego get in the way._   
  
“Cap? Cap? CAP!” Steve looks up, and he sees a suit of red and gold hovering over him. “Jesus H. Christ, man, we’ve been looking all over for you!”   
  
“Tony,” he manages to wheeze. “I never thought I’d be so glad to see you.”   
  
“...Are you missing a leg?”   
  
“I think it’s only temporary,” Steve says, and passes out.  
  
*  
  
Darcy’s petting the dog when she gets the call -- Steve’s dog. They got three feet into the shelter, dead set on a rescued purebred bulldog when they spotted the ugliest dog they had ever seen. She was some godforsaken mix of a boxer and a pitt bull. Tongue too longer for her mouth, eyes buggy, one useless, teeth hanging out over long jowls. She took one look at Steve and grinned, and they literally hadn’t had a choice. They named her Sweetie, and they took her home.  
  
She may have been the ugliest thing they’d ever seen, but she _loved_ to run, and with Steve gone, she settled for Darcy’s labored efforts, but it was clear she wanted her Cap back and their long excursions. She’d taken to sitting at the door, one ear hopefully perked. Darcy would come home from work, give her a long hug, and scratch her ears.   
  
Her phone rings while she’s going through their nightly ritual, and she sees the SHIELD logo and quips, “Coulson, you’ve got to stop calling me after-hours or Steve’s going to catch on to our steamy affair.”   
  
“Miss Lewis.” It’s Maria Hill, and she doesn’t sound amused. “I’m calling you because you’re listed as Captain Rogers’ emergency contact.”   
  
Darcy freezes, and Sweetie seems to sense something is wrong, and starts to lick Darcy’s hand. “I am,” she says evenly. “Is there an emergency?”   
  
“Captain Rogers went missing, about forty-eight hours ago. We’ve recovered him. He’s in an army hospital in Germany.”   
  
“Steve’s in a hospital?” _He was missing forty-eight hours and nobody **called me**?_  
  
“He’s asking to see you. The doctors have no idea how long it’s going to take his body to heal itself -- he’s making significant progress on regrowing his leg...”  
  
“He’s what?”   
  
“Miss Lewis, I’m going to send a driver for you. He’s on his way already. Pack your bags for a week or so.”   
  
“What about Sweetie?”   
  
“I’m afraid we don’t have time to clear the dog through customs. We’ll kennel it for you if you like... Ah, never mind. Ms. Potts is making arrangements. It seems Dr. Banner is good with animals, if you don’t mind.”  
  
“That’s -- that’s fine. She uh... she likes to go on runs. How long is the flight to Germany?”   
  
“You’ll be flying Stark airlines,” Ms. Potts’ voice says over the phone. “No more than a couple of hours.”   
  
“I... need to pack.”   
  
“Yes. Miss Lewis, you need to know... we’re all praying for him here, those of us that pray.”   
  
“Good.” Darcy swallows. “So am I.”   
  
*  
  
Steve feels like crap. He’s gritting his teeth to get through the pain of his body sewing itself back together. Bones snapping back into place, new tissue forced into being. They can’t give him the drugs, because the drugs don’t work, and short of knocking him out (which he flatly refuses), there’s nothing they can do for him. Every once in a while a nurse or a doctor stops by and says something super helpful like, “That looks like it really hurts.”   
  
At this point, Steve’s ready to punch a wall. Or something.  
  
And then Darcy Lewis walks through the door and she says, “Soldier, what did I tell you about coming home in one piece?”  
  
“I’m so sorry, ma’am. Circumstances were... unavoidable.”   
  
“They tell me my favorite bits came through unharmed,” Darcy says, dropping her bag on the floor, and crossing to his bed, standing awkwardly on the side of it. Steve flushes and then bites back a curse as another inch of bone and flesh makes its way out of his body. “Steve, oh my God...”   
  
“Darcy...” He doesn’t really want to cry, but he’s only felt pain like this one time, and it was over in a few minutes, but this agony will probably stretch out days.   
  
Darcy doesn’t do endearments. So when she says, “Oh, sweetheart...” and cradles his head in her hand and kisses his forehead... it makes him feel... safe. And warm. And loved. And it’s a rare feeling in his life.   
  
“Do me a favor,” he says, reaching for her hand. “Crawl in here with me, just for a little bit?”   
  
“Won’t that hurt?”  
  
“Everything hurts.” Steve smiles. “But... as stupid as this sounds, you seem to make it a little better, so...”   
  
She crawls in and Steve brings her body in close, and they talk about Sweetie and the apartment and make plans to go see the Rockies on the Indian and she holds his hand through the rough bits and yeah, it still hurts... but he doesn’t care.


	3. Unexpected Pleasantness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy doesn't feel well. Steve's not around. She receives some kindness from an unexpected quarter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Sarah. Thanks for cheering me up, love. Kindness from friends makes the world go 'round.

She’s got a flu. She hasn’t been sick in a while -- she made it through all of grad school without any major bumps in the road, she thinks through sheer force of will. But six months in this city and she’s got some sort of demonized, weaponized plague. Or so she thinks until Dr. Banner takes a look at her, at Tony’s request, after she sneezes all over Dum-E. 

Dr. Banner takes her temperature and takes some blood, but after her exam is over, he takes his glasses off and coughs before he speaks.

“It’s just your average, run of the mill, miserable-making cold and flu,” he says. “I can get one of the real docs to write you a script for Tamiflu and some decongestant, but there’s just no getting around it. You’re going to feel sick for a couple of days.” 

Tony makes a face. “That’s it, Lewis. You are banished. Be gone! Of course, it’s probably too late. I’m feeling a little under the weather myself. Typhoid Mary, herself!” He points a finger. “I’m going to get this god-forsaken disease, and it will be your fault, Lewis!” 

Darcy blows her nose in what she thinks is an appropriately scornful fashion. 

** 

Tony talks big, but he sends Happy himself to drive her home and see her up to her apartment with a big bag of the finest pharmaceuticals Stark Industries’ excellent insurance can buy. Steve’s been out of town for a few days, and the apartment feels lonely and huge without his presence.

It’s the first time he’s been out of town since the incident. She’s been trying to be really mature about it and not freak out about it. Mostly, she does that by working a lot and trying not to be at the apartment too much. But now that her evil overlord has sent her home, it’s all too easy to miss his face. And his pancakes in the morning. And his scent on the sheets.

And his shoes. His shoes take up a lot of room. Not that there’s more than one pair of them. But that they’re so big. There’s a possibility the medicine is making her loopy. She makes herself a cup of tea and finds her bed, collapsing in it. She falls asleep before the tea fully steeps, letting it go cold on the nightstand next to her too-big bed. 

**

She wakes to the sound of someone in her apartment. Her eyes snap open and she reaches in her drawer for her handy taser and tries to calm her racing heartbeat. It’s not that she can’t take care of herself, but when a girl is running a hundred degree fever, that’s when she really wants her superhero boyfriend home to deal with intruders. 

“Listen!” she shouts. “I don’t know who you are or what you want, but I have a fever and a taser made for me by Tony Stark. No jury in the world would convict me if I took this baby all the way up to the highest setting and just let ‘er rip.” 

“Please don’t do that. I don’t think Tony could handle the irony,” Pepper says. 

“Whoa.” Darcy puts a hand on her forehead. “I am so confused right now.”

“I’m sorry.” Pepper waves a hand, the other one holding a foam food container. “Tony just let me know that you weren’t feeling well. And then he got called in to help Steve and the others, and I thought… well. I thought I’d bring you some soup.” 

Darcy thinks it might be the fever. It might also be the medicine. It might be the fact that Jane often gets absorbed in science and this is a new city, and yeah, she’s got friends, but she didn’t have drop-by-get-you-soup-cause-you’re-feeling-yuck friends in this city before this moment. She starts to tear up, and hastily wipes her eyes. 

Pepper shifts uncomfortably. “I know the last thing I want is strange people in my house when I’m sick, so I thought I’d just drop this off, and tell you that I’ve heard from Tony in the last couple of hours. They’re all coming home. They’re only a few hours out. Steve’s going to call you as soon as he can. I’ve only heard from Tony through JARVIS, so…” 

“Thanks, Pepper.” Her throat hurts and her body is on fire but Pepper is just so nice. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Pepper turns on those impeccable heels to leave. “Hey, Pepper?” Darcy hates that her voice cracks.

“Yeah?”

“After I feel better, want to get a glass of wine sometime?” 

A sly smile crosses Pepper’s face. “You know, I think I’d like that.”


End file.
